


Autumn Girl

by grbgcn2



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: F/M, Female Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Garla Press, Journalist!Shiro, soccer players, time skip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-06
Updated: 2018-12-06
Packaged: 2019-09-12 17:03:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16876749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grbgcn2/pseuds/grbgcn2
Summary: The man first saw the girl from across the park.





	Autumn Girl

The man first saw the girl from across the park.

He was sitting on a wooden bench, reading. The cool, crisp autumn air running through his hair. He remembered being tired, his glasses perched atop his head as he rubbed his hand over his face. Traced his scar above his nose, feeling the puckered skin. When he opened them, he saw her.

Her hair , he thought. It was what had gotten his attention. It was the color of honey, amber- or the falling leaves. She had a red scarf around her neck, a bomber jacket on her shoulders with faded jeans and mahogany- cherry red? - boots. She was walking towards a group of guys, one of which had the same hair color as her. Brother , he assumed.

The man watched as greetings were exchanged between them. It was only then that the man noticed how bare the guys were- only wearing tank tops and shorts- each in a different (blue, green, red, yellow). Sports members followed by soccer players when he saw the lankiest of the group, Blue, tossing a soccer ball in the air. Another guy with dark hair, Red, said something to Blue, probably a jab from the offended look on his face, causing Blue to get hit in the head. Green and Yellow quickly stepped in to neutralize the situation before a fight could breakout.

***

Book forgotten, he watched as the group moved to a small clearing between some trees- within some hearing distance but not enough to distinguish words.

Teams were made- Red and Green against Yellow and Blue. The girl stood between Red and Blue acting as referee. She yelled and the game began.

Halfway through the game a couple more people joined the game- a man with orange hair and mustache, wearing a referee shirt; a blonde in a pink sweater, who went to stand beside the girl; and two other players wearing soccer uniforms (White and Purple). The girl yelled, the game stopped. Exchanges were made. New players added. Whistle blown. The game resumed.

***

It was a close game from what he could tell. The Blue team would’ve won had Blue not tripped over the ball while running. Green stole. Passed to White, who swerved around Purple. Kicked to Red, who scored the winning goal.

Cheers erupted from the sidelines. The girl ran to her brother, picked her up and spun her in a circle. She high fives Red and White. Gave Blue a smug look with her hand on her hips. She let out a laugh, everyone joined except for Bed and Blue who were bickering. Frustrated, Blue kicked the ball.

It went straight into the air, curved, and hit him in the face.

***

Shiro came to with a groan. All around him, he could hear voices, panicked and concerned.

“Is he breathing?” A pause. “Oh my God- Did I kill him?!”

“Lance!”

“Be careful with his head. He might have a concussion.”

“Guys, quite!” A soft boyish said. “He’s waking up!”

He opened his eyes. And froze.

Shiro was lookin at the most beautiful eyes in the world. Eyes the color of liquid gold, the color of the sun or of all owl’s his muddled mind suggested.

“Hey” the girl whispered, concern on her face. “You OK?”

Shiro blinked, taking in the splash of light freckles across her nose, caramel halo and slightly pale skin.

“What’s your name?” The girl asked.

“Shiro,” Shiro replied dumbly.

“Shiro, hi, I’m Pidge.” She smiled and his breath hitched.

“ Beautiful. ” He murmured. She blushed.

“Hey, dude.” A boys voice said. “Could you get you head off my sisters lap? It’s been awhile.”

“Matt!”

Shiro got up. He shook his head and looked around at the people surrounding him.

“Here.” Another voice, Yellow, said, handing him his book and glasses.

“Thank you.” He took them in his hands. “Who are you?” He asked placing the book in his coat pocket and his glasses on.

“I’m Hunk.” Hunk introduced himself. He gestured to the others. “And this is Keith”

A nod.

“Allura.”

“Hey.”

“Romelle.”

“Hi.”

“Lotor.”

“‘Sup.”

“Coran.”

“Hello, lad.”

“And this is-“

“Lance,” Keith cut in. “The one who hit you with the ball.”

“Hey!” Lance protested. “It was an accident!” He turned to Shiro.

“Sorry.” He muttered, looking sheepish. “My emotions got the better of me.”

Lance stuck out his hand. “We cool?”

“Yeah,” Shiro smiled, accepting his hand.

***

The group and Shiro spent the rest of the day at a cafe not to far from the park, chatting and getting to know each other. Shiro learned that they were all seniors in high school- with the exception of Matt, Lotor, and Allura, who were college students. Coran was the owner of a bakery named Altea.

Shiro had heard of that place. It was known for it's weirdly named pastries and drinks but was praised throughout the city for their taste. People said they were so good, it felt like a supernova of flavor in their mouths. Shiro’s mouth watered just thinking about it. Coran even invited him over, saying that whatever he wanted would be on the house, as a way to apologize for today. But Shiro shook his head, saying that he wouldn’t want to impose.

“Nonsense!” Coran differed. “It wouldn’t be a bother at all!”

“But-“

“Just do it, Shiro,” Pidge said from across the table. “He won’t take ‘no’ for an answer.”

Shiro looked at her, trying not to stare. It was hard not to. The window was right behind her, outlining Pidge in a soft golden light, making her hair glow.

She’s a high school student his mind whispered. He looked away and sighed. “Ok.”

Coran cheered.

Shiro glanced at his watch. Look at the time. He got up, his chair scraping against the floor. “Well, I gotta go.” He told them. “It's getting late.”

“Will we ever see you again?”

Shiro paused, eyes locking with Pidge. “Maybe.” He gave her a sad smile. “Maybe not.” And left.  
****  
Shiro saw Pidge again, a year later at the park where they first met. On a chilly autumn day. He was sitting at his usual place- a bench facing a water fountain- with his head tipped back, eyes closed, enjoying the cold air.

“Can I sit here?” Someone asked.

He opened his eyes. Grey met gold.

“Pidge” he gasped.

‘Hey,” she smiled. “So can I sit here?”

Shiro scooted over. She sat down. They faced each other.

“So,” Pidge started. “How have you been?”

Shiro let out a breathy laugh. ‘Great. More tired but great. Works been a little tough but that’s how it is.”

“Oh, really? That’s sucks.” Pidge made a face.”What do you work in?”

“I’m a journalist.” Shiro replied. “I work for the Garla Press.”

“Oh.” Pidge paused, turning away, eyes downcast.

“Yeah,” Shiro said nervously. Usually when people found out he worked for them, they’d get on his case. The Garla were known for being biased in their reports and for only publishing gruesome things, like murder stories and robberies. Things people didn’t want to think about. Stories people would rather go on not knowing about and instead continue living happy lives.

But Shiro needed the job, the money. Other people wouldn’t even consider hiring him, given his background. He didn’t have much of a choice.

Pidge looked back at him. “Is it hard?”

“Sometimes.” Shiro let out a nervous laugh. He cleared his throat. “So, anyways, how have you been?”

“Well, college has been kicking my ass.” Pidge shuddered. “You know, all those papers, tests, late night studying.” She let out a tired sigh, perking up a second later. “But on the bright side, all my are still together. We all even go to the same college- the Galaxy Garrison.”

“Ah, yes.” Shiro smiled, lips twitching. “The Garrison. Part military, part college. Tell me, is Iverson still around?”

Pidge winced. ‘Ohh, yeah. Angry and loud as ever.”

They shared a laugh.

“So, Shiro,” Pidge started hesitantly. “What kinda name is that, anyway?”

Shiro hesitated, looking away. He rubbed the back of his head nervously. He hated when people asked his real name. They looked at him differently, treated him differently. Expected things from him. But with Pidge, he felt like he could tell her anything. Like she wouldn’t treat him differently.

“I’m sorry,” Pidge apologized softly, concern in her voice. “You don’t have too tell me if you don’t want to. It's ok.”

He faced her. “No, no, no, it's ok, it's just-“ He let out a frustrated sigh, looking at his hands. “It's just that people treat me differently when I tell them my real name. It makes me uncomfortable.”

Pidge let out a soft sigh. “I can relate- I know how that feels too. Feeling like you’re expected to do something great- be something great- just because of who you're related to.”

Shiro studied her out of the corner of his eye. She looked so vulnerable right now- head bent, hands clasped together, fidgeting. He bet he looked like that too. Shiro took a deep breath, held it, let it go. He reached out, slowly, and lightly touched her hand. She looked at him, warily.

Shiro gave her a soft smile. “My name is Takashi Shirogane.”

Pidge blinked at him slowly. “ The Takashi Shirogane.” She whispered. Shiro nodded.

“Ok, wow.” Pidge stuttered. “Just- just give me a moment to process this.” He did. “Alright, I’m good. Thanks.” She smiled at him.

“Guess it’s only fair, if I tell you my real name, huh?” Shiro started to protest but Pidge held up her hand. “Don’t try to argue with me, Shiro. It’s only fair.”

He nodded.

“My name is Katie Holt.” Shiro stared at her.

“As in-“

“Samuel and Colleen Holt’s daughter? Yes.”

“Holy shit.” He closed his eyes. “Give me a moment to process it.” A heartbeat later. “Ok, got it.”

He smirked at her. “Guess we both have a lot of expectations on our shoulders huh?”

“Guess we do.” They shared a smile.

“Hey” he said, getting up from the bench. “Wanna go grab a cup of coffee? My treat.”

He offered her his hand. She took it, a smile on her face.

“I’d love too.”


End file.
